The Letter
by redlily188
Summary: Set after 3x13: I got this idea from my fic 'Dear Arthur'. Merlin needed to say goodbye.Based on the song Proud of You by 10 Years. Mergana if you have a microscope on hand. One-shot.


**This takes place after 3x13, so if you haven't seen the whole season yet, it's probably best that you do not read this.**

**Based off the song "Proud of You" by 10 Years. I do not own the song, nor do I own Merlin.**

**Review?**

._ Shadows set mood.  
Innocence left the room.  
And all I know to do.  
Is shed a tear for you._

One lit candle rested on a wooden table casting a diminutive amount of light across the room. It created a spotlight on the table littered with random bottles of healing tonics and a thin bit of parchment. But the rest of the room was marked by shadows.

The worst thing about shadows is what could be lurking our hiding in them. Whether it's a physical enemy stalking its prey, or the ghastly thoughts that rest at the back of the mind, shadows are used for one main purpose:

For hiding. Shadows are a thin veil that covers the evil things in life. Because the veil is so thin, though, the nefarious ideals are still noticeable, but they are always ignored. Perhaps that is what makes them so terrible. As they hide, they grow, and as they grow, the more powerful they become.

A dark haired boy stared at the blank parchment resting on the table before him, tapping the goose quill against the wood. He had no idea what to write, or why he was even doing this. It was crazy, insane, foolish, unwise, and imprudent.

But the young warlock didn't have any idea on what else to do. He felt that everything was his fault, her demise was his fault. And he couldn't just let that go.

What should he say? Something told him that 'I am sorry' would not cut it. The pain she had endured was great, and her malevolence ways are even greater. She would never come back to them.

So the boy did the only thing he could do. A tear fell from his bright blue eyes, and ran smoothly down his cheek, making its way to his neck, and finally seeping into the fibers of his red neckerchief

_I cannot watch you choose.  
To pour salt in your wounds.  
Now all I know to do.  
Is say a prayer for you._

The young warlock heaved out a loud sigh, way too troubled for someone as young as him. But then again, not everybody his age had the weight of destiny on their shoulders.

Pressing the ink quill to the parchment, he began to write the first thing that came to mind.

Dear Morgana,

It seems like you've made your choice. The past year I have been hoping and hoping that you'd come back to us, but it seems like that's not possible now. You are too far gone, Morgana, and nothing can bring you back.

But even so, my mind tries to deny it. Everybody's does. We walk through the hallways, expecting to see your smiling face. Gwen approaches turns, hoping that she will see her best friend, even though she's know it will not happen. Gaius forgets that you have left sometimes, and makes you a tonic for your nightmares. He only remembers that you are gone after the remedy is finished. Uther stares at the doors, expecting to see his daughter walk in proudly with a gorgeous dress on, honoring a select few with a smile. But the doors never open. Whenever Arthur makes a mistake he looks around, waiting for you to poke fun at him. Awkward moments pass with no insults, so he continues on.

And me. I do not know what I am waiting for. Sometimes I look for a Morgana willing to help me out with anything, and other times I search for a glaring look in the crowd.

But I see none of these things, because you are gone.

I am not writing this to boast about our victory, Morgana, you know me better than that. I am writing this for closure, because I fear that the next time we meet you will only be looking at me through pure hatred.

I will be looking at you through pity. You have let your hatred for Camelot and everyone in it blind you from doing what is right. Just as Uther has done with his hatred of magic. Toying with darkness in dangerous, but when one succumbs to it they can never come back.

I cannot ask you to come back to us Morgana, that was a cause lost long ago. So I will do the only thing I can do. I will pray for you. Pray that someday you will see reason, and once again become the Morgana everyone loves, as impossible as that seems.

_Please do not be ashamed whether you win or lose.  
I just want you to know that I am proud of you.  
Do not be afraid when your fight is through.  
I just need you to know that I am here with you._

You have played a dangerous game, Morgana, and you have bet everything you possibly could. Right now it appears as if you lost, but I know you too well to think that you will just give up. I know that you will be back, more vindictive than ever.

Someone very wise once told me that my determination to see goodness in people would be my undoing, and he is probably right. But even so Morgana, I still pity you. Perhaps even forgive you.

Whether things go right or wrong for you, do not be ashamed. You stood up for what you believed in, even if it wasn't the best approach. That took courage, Morgana, but I only wish that you had gone about it in a different way.

Eventually this vendetta will end, and Arthur kill be the greatest king Camelot will ever know. You are going to end up all alone, wasting away in bitterness. It will be frightening, but I can only hope that it will open your eyes. When Arthur becomes King, do not try to hurt him. Open your eyes, shed all the fear you have, and watch Arthur. You may be surprised with what he does.

I know you will not believe me when I say this, but I understand exactly what you are going through. I always have. I cannot tell you why or how I know, but trust me when I say this: I know.

With Hopes that Someday You Will Understand,

Merlin

Setting the quill down, the boy sat back. He read over the paper twice before folding it up.

Tomorrow he would take it to the Druid's, who had promised to give the letter to the witch if she ever contacted them.


End file.
